wedged between some tight places. but the sun is out today and so is the mail. at this point in time. and my right hand is not as tired as it should be because i am not writing enough. all of these things running through my mind. performing, out in the cold, out beneath the mountains. boulders rolling and stones atoning. the pen is not working. i will go with that. i will not look at my fingers, laying supine and flaccid as they are. crippling headaches induced by molded joists, lintels, and general air. logos represent many a thing. i'd say there is about thirty-four minutes left until the timer goes off and the damp clothes will want to be retrieved. scoot in close, get together.